


Thirsty

by MyRegardstotheReader



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, NSFW, Public Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyRegardstotheReader/pseuds/MyRegardstotheReader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re one of Oswald’s managers for the club when Falcone and Zsasz drop in on a surprise visit. When you take orders for drinks, you find Victor’s choice of a drink is not quite on the menu ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirsty

It was supposed to be a rather boring shift. There was nothing more boring than monday night. You fluffed out your tutu like skirt, making sure your stockings were straight, and shoes were shiny. Oswald was here, but left you as front of house manager. This meant you had to be on your toes. Just a week ago Sissy slipped on a puddle of liquid and nearly spilt 90 dollars worth of alcohol, one drink, and nearly took out the man who had ordered it. If you hadn’t been there, she’d have a broken nose and out of a job. Butch was a good manager, but he wasn’t like Fish, and good with people. This was your cat walk, your stage, you made everyone feel welcome and everyone feel appreciated.

And your staff feared the look of disappointment from you should they fuck up.

You fixed your hair piece one more time before settling into your pump stilettos and strutting out into the front. Rachel and Jeremiah were behind the bar, getting mixes ready. The girls on stage were warming up, doing their vocals and leg stretches. Thirty minutes till the door opened.

So you decided to stop by Oswald’s door. You rapped your knuckles against the door, listening for his ‘enter’ growl, and let yourself in.

“(Y/N), everything is in order, I presume?” Oswald was a bit more distracted by paperwork today than you had ever seen. Smiling, you nodded, then walked towards him. You had taken up his glass off the desk, walking it to the cabinet and placing it in the small bucket you left for his dirty wine glasses. You took a fresh one off the shelf and a new bottle.

“Merlot?” You asked, but knew the answer. His eyes seemed to relax with a smile as he nodded. One of the reasons he first hired you after he took over was you knew your wines, and you knew how to pair it with a person. Your addition to wine tastings at the club on sunday afternoons for high end clients brought in a boom of business.

You poured his glass slowly, corked the bottle and placed it nearby but not in the way. “I’m going to get this ball rolling.”

“Yes, thank you.” He took his fresh glass, passing you a glance, before he set back to work on his papers. You let out a sigh. Another monday… you’d be fine.

“This is not fine! This is not fine!” You hissed as you nearly came barrelling around the bar and snatched Jeremiah by the arm. Not but two hours into work, a special guest had appeared. Don Carmen Falcone. You cursed as you punched in a bourbon on the rocks for him, a glass of wine for Oswald, then a glass of water. Victor Zsasz stood tall next to Falcone, and despite the fact you knew what to give Falcone and what to give Oswald, you had never been able to get a read on Victor. He didn’t seem the type to drink and you couldn’t guess a bubbly fruit drink for him. Best not to upset the assassin now.

“NO ONE works table eight, am I clear!” You hissed lowly to the other servers and workers who nodded. “Act normal, I’m getting the boss.”

Your heels skidded as you barged into the room and slid it shut behind you.

“(Y/N)… what are you doing?” Oswald near growled, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Falcones here.”

Instantly he was up on his feet and rushing towards you. You straightened his jacket, fixed his hair, smiled at him and let out a held breath. “I will wait exactly two minutes, then leave after you.”

You nodded and left the room, attempting not to look nervous. Then you rounded the booth that Falcone and Victor zsasz sat at. “Mr. Cobblepot says he’ll be right here. Should I bring your drinks now?”

“We haven’t ordered.” Victor Zsasz spoke coldly, but his eyes were always trailing you. Ever since the first day you and the assassin met, he always seemed like a predator ready to eat you alive to you. Mostly because he kept his constant look in his eyes like he’d flip you over a table and rip off your knickers. Not that… you necessarily… minded that idea. But you were trying to be professional. He always came around business hours, when you were working and even though you would love to know what he looked like under that pressed suit, maybe have that tie of his around your wrists, you held back.

“Oh, Victor, please… (Y/N) here is a special girl, she can tell what you want to drink by just looking at you.” Falcone laughed.

“Right, then I’ll bring them over.” You chirped, ready to disconnect from the heated smug look on Victor’s face.

Behind the bar, you pressed a cool ice cube to your face and neck, trying to cool down as Oswald left his office. You took up your tray and followed him to the booth. Eyes peeled around the room just in case anyone was in the process of making this night worse, you stopped at the booth.

“A glass of 1890 German black cherry Red for Mr. Cobblepot.” You smiled at your boss, setting the wine near him. “A 1930 bourbon with honey, for Don Falcone.” You sat it over a napkin for Falcone who nodded with an appreciation in his eyes. Then you stopped as you looked to Victor. He seemed far too smug for his own good and you hated this.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), Victor doesn’t drink anything, or if he does… I’ve never witnessed it.” Falcone laughed. Now you just felt offended. Your lips pursed as you set the glass of water before him.

“I guess… your power only works on some.” Victor stated lowly, leaning towards her. “That’s not what I wanted.” He near purred as he sat back in the booth.

There were so many things you wanted to say, one of them being ‘come say that at the bar,” but then she’d end up drinking him, than rather feeding him drinks. Correcting your shoulders, you smiled sweetly and nodded. “my apologies.”

And you turned. No need to get hot headed over one drink. Victor Zsasz was a blank canvas and there was nothing you could have done to figure out his drink of choice. But it stung, like you couldn’t even do your basic job. With a huff and a puff, you stalked towards the bathrooms. Ready to get yourself in order, change your attitude, and get back into manager mode.

Only, you had just walked into the bathroom which held three stalls and three mirrors, surprisingly empty for a women’s room at a club/bar. You had your hands on the sink when someone came in behind you. And they locked the door. Eyebrows shot up, you whirled around and found Victor Zsasz there at the door.

“My apologies, it seems my attitude has caused you stress.” His lips curled into a smirk. Your breath was heavy as he stepped closer, those long black gloves slid off and hit the floor with a thud. If there hadn’t been warmth between your legs and in your abdomen before, there was now. “It was not my intention. I believe I’m horrible at flirting. It’s easier to be straightforward for me, so … allow me to be straightforward now, (Y/N).”

Your face lit up harsh and fast as he stood just before you. Your finger nails clawed the marble counter as he stood just inches from you. Obvious now, his eyes drank you in from the tip of your toes covered in your black heels, up your sheer stockings, past your short and exposing tutu of a skirt, past the revealing top that flattered your frame and breasts, and up to your eyes. “Of course.”

You had realized he was waiting for some sort of answer and you could feel your breath growing heavier and your body growing weaker. Then his hands were swooping around and under your thighs, lifting you rather roughly up onto the counter so he could be between your thighs.

“My drink of choice is you.” He breathed against your lips, his body so close to yours. The room was a thousand degrees now, and your chest rose dangerously as his eyes dropped down to your breasts then back up to your eyes. “Am I allowed to have my drink now?”

You barely had a moment to nod, or speak, only a gasp of pleasure failing to leave your mouth as he brought your mouths together. His lips were rough at first, smoothing out and turning soft as he pressed into you, those hands gripping your hips. You could feel his hips grinding against you as you helplessly wrapped your legs around his waist. That kiss seared your insides as your hands grabbed at his shoulder and tie, tugging on it like a petulant child. He didn’t miss a beat, letting go of your hips long enough to yank the thing off, shrug off his jacket in rapid movement, and even break the kiss just to yank the shirt and vest he barely undid, just enough to get off him. Your hands clawed and ran designs along his skin, shivering at the feel of smooth skin interrupted by jagged scars. Those lips that held yours were not at your neck.

He kissed and nipped liked you were his last meal. You had no bones to move or function till those lips found the top of your breasts. Your top had to go. You let go of his back and unwrapped from his waist. Just long enough to push him back, land on the tile and pull on the ribbon that held your top. Victor finished the job, cupping your cheek to take back your mouth, the top in his fingers then it was up and off your shoulders. He lay it on the counter, as if concerned about your clothing than his own. His belt was near yanked off as your lips met again and again in an attack.

Then you pushed him back to unzip your skirt. He took this time to wheel you around. You had the skirt trapping your ankles and heels in a mess of cloth. Your hands pressed against the counter, looking into the mirror. His mouth descended onto your shoulder. It was more intense now, watching him kiss and nip at your flesh. This hands found your nipples, and your knees shook. “Be careful, don’t want to fall on the job… these floors are filthy.”

You gasped as a sharp slap came over your panties against your sex. It sent sharp feelings into your core, your mouth open in a gasp. “My floor aren’t filthy.” You defended.

“Want me to fuck you against them to prove my point?” His hiss in your ear ran shivers down your spine. Then he pinched your nipples hard, a cry from you fell into the sink as he soothed the pinch with circling motions of his fingers.

“No,” You near whined as he bucked against your ass.

“I didn’t think so.” He growled against your flesh. Your panties were soaked as his fingers slipped down into them. He pushed them off your hips and let them pool at your feet with your skirt. Those long fingers that you liked to see revealed from under leather gloves, now traced your clit. Circling it, teasing you, watching your every reaction in the bathroom mirror. Your legs actually trembled and threatened to fall out from under you.

“Step out of your clothes.” He instructed firmly and you took the second reprieve from his stimulation he gave to do so. His fingers held still as you stepped from your skirt and panties. He even bent down, kissing your spine as he did to snatch them up. Then he placed them on the counter with your other items. Stockings and heels still in place, you took a deep breath in, the heat of your lust already devouring you. That’s when he leaned in closer, spread your legs further, and then shoved two digits far into you.

The cry of pleasure was a surprise to you as you nearly slipped on the counter, gripping it harder for more support. Those fingers rocked your body, shaking you to the core as he pressed and opened and spread you. They began to pump harder and faster, making sure his palm slapped up against your clit as often as it could. There was nothing to stop your climax. Like a cliff he saw you standing on the edge, smirked into your reflection so you could see his pride in in, then shoved you right over it hard and fast. He ground against you hard as you came against his hands. Your cum covered his fingers and the floor beneath you.

“See… the floors are filthy.” He kissed your ear, biting your lobe and tugging on it gently. “You really ought to teach your staff to clean them better.”

You knew he was teasing, but the idea of one of your staff coming in and cleaning up your cum off the floor was beyond humiliating. So why were you blushing hard and gasping for air as he slowed down his pace with his fingers. Now his fingers lazily traced your insides then your clit, never letting you settle back down from your high. It was disgusting to imagine them huffing and groaning about someone having sex in the bathrooms… only to never know it was their manager.

“Are you always so generous to your guests?” Victor teased more, pulling his fingers out of you. He helped you turn and face him as he popped his digits into his mouth, sucking them clean.

“With alcohol, yes…” You murmured, breathless.

“I’m not quite done with my drink.” He stated. “Can I have more?”

Your were astounded that he was still asking at this point. “Victor Zsasz, you can have the whole bottle.”

Your blurt was a bit more forward than you meant, but that didn’t stop him from scooping you up, whirling the two of you, and pinning your bare back into the stall directly to your right. The frosty metal sent tingles down into your organs, as his pants were unbuttoned just as lightening fast as his top was gone. You had no idea how in the midst of his kissing you, shoving down his pants and boxers, how he put on a condom. But just as you were given air from his kisses, he was in you.

His hips met yours hurriedly, and you were happy to meet him. Digging your heels into his lower back as you tried to wrap around him. One of his hands held your hip, giving him more advantage to thrust earnestly into you. They were fast and hard, your whole body moved with his cock pushing up into you. The other hand held your hands dangerously tight about your head. You drank in how his eyes moved from where his cock disappeared into you, to your breasts bouncing with vigor, to your face.

The moans had been a background noise up until now, the slapping of your hips with a wet sound were louder in your opinion. Until he pulled you in for another kiss, then another, taking time to look at all of you then kissing you again and again. Your whole body felt on fire but in the most delicious way. Your mouth fell open as he bucked harder into you, shaking the stall that he pinned you to.

“Fuck… Victor!” You cried out, your second climax had snuck up on you, but it wrecked you. Your fingers clenched down in a fist, your toes curled and head fell back. The hand that held your wrist now snatched your hair, pulling your head back. Kisses were soft to make up for the rough yank of your hair. Your moaned harder against his mouth as his thrusts grew more rough. You could tell he was close, but he wanted to withhold on you.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” You murmured huskily as he broke the kiss. “Victor Zsasz, finish now or I will never give you seconds.”

“I doubt you’re this filthy with anyone else.” He growled, his hips bucking harder, nearly breaking in pattern. His eyes were hooded and blown out, looking down into your eyes.

“I could be convinced to be more filthy… with you.” You confessed. His eyes searched yours. Then, unable to hold back, he came hard. His body shook and you two nearly ate shit his knees quaked for a moment. Then he slowed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Fingers soothed your aching hair line as he massaged your hips too. Then your legs were back to standing, he was before you, cleaning and discarding of the condom.

“I’m guessing I can’t interrupt you at work, though.” He murmured, eyes still peeled on you. He handed over your panties then your skirt, helping you step into them and fixing them on your hips. He then picked up your corset like top and assisted you in putting it on as well before he even pulled on his own clothes.

“I was trying to be professional.” You grinned cat like and caught his eye. “Maybe next time, you can see how filthy my apartment floor is.”

You winked as you washed your hands in the sink, passing him to dry them on paper towels. He had barely pulled on his shirt as you straightened your hair and make-up one last time.

“Gladly.” He shot back.

“Oh… and Victor…” He looked up as you stood in the doorway, now unlocked. “I knew what drink you wanted… I just thought it best not to publicly announce how thirsty you are for me.” The look on his face was a challenge. You would be getting ten fold for that comment later on. And oh… you couldn’t wait. Monday’s definitely were better from then on.


End file.
